


Best Worst Day Ever

by GoldenWaffles



Series: Trophyverse [2]
Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, But like the in-universe Alternate Universe, F/F, Nicole to the rescue, Two-Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-02-04 15:13:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18607108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenWaffles/pseuds/GoldenWaffles
Summary: In a world without Wynonna...Sheriff Haught is woken up on the worst day of her life, the day of Waverly Gibson's wedding, by a phone call from the bride herself. And maybe this might not be the worst day of her life after all.Sort of a prequel to "In Another Life, I Would Be Your Girl."Takes place in what I’m dubbing the “Trophyverse” from 2x11, where Wynonna has been haphazardly erased from the timeline. This story occurs in the in the (technically speaking nonexistent) time before the events of the episode. In this case, the first time Waverly calls off her wedding to Perry.





	1. Nicole

**Author's Note:**

> I hadn't really planned to write any other stories in this world, but this idea struck me like a lightning bolt and I felt like I had to get it down. This is exactly the kind of angst-fluff I devour. The style is a little different from anything I've written before, but hopefully it'll feel right in context. I may someday write more in this world as well. Enjoy!

Today was the worst day of Nicole Haught’s life.  
  
Also, she was pretty sure she was dying.  
  
Granted, neither of those facts were all that unusual. Since moving to Purgatory a year ago, she had survived a disproportionate number of “worst days of her life,” and more near-death experiences than she could count with her shoes on. For some reason, the job posting for small-town sheriff’s deputy hadn’t mentioned all the harrowing danger and emotional trauma that made up the bulk of the job.  
  
To be fair, even if it had, Nicole probably still would have signed on. Something about Purgatory just felt right to her. This town was where she belonged. The second she set foot on the dusty soil, she could feel herself sending roots into the ground, burrowing deep into the bedrock. This was home now. For good. But that didn’t stop life in her new home from feeling like a long string of small insanities occasionally interrupted by one massive insanity, while everyone else in town carefully looked the other way.  
  
But Nicole didn’t look away.  
  
Nicole was open-minded, almost to a fault— enough to have suspected from the start that there was something just plain _off_ about Purgatory. There were things here that were unnatural. _Super_ natural, even. That much was obvious to her, even if everyone else pretended not to see it.  
  
And she was pretty sure they were all just pretending.  
  
She _had_ eventually gotten some answers, although not in the way she had wanted. In the days after Sheriff Nedley’s death (God rest his soul), all of which were real “worst of her life” contenders, she had cleaned the personal belongings out of his office and boxed them up for his grieving daughter. The process had uncovered a hidden closet in the corner, stuffed to bursting with unexplainable case files, hair-raising autopsy reports, and random-seeming objects that presumably couldn’t be trusted. Her suspicions were finally confirmed. The monsters were real. And she couldn’t even talk with Nedley about it, because he was gone. She had crumpled onto the floor of his office, sometime after midnight, holding a _garden gnome_ , of all things, crying mingled tears of heartbroken loss and surprise relief. Relief that she wasn’t crazy. That she had been right. That it was all real. Then, first thing in the morning, she had stood back up, marched straight over to the Black Badge Office, kicked their door in, and demanded to be brought in on all their goddamned secrets, _and if they wanted her killed for treason, then they might as well just do it right then right there and get it over with, because life in Purgatory was dangerous enough without being blindfolded on top of it_. Dolls had clearly been stunned into silence, but Jeremy had grinned at her like they’d all just won the lottery, and six months later, here they were. Witches and demons and revenants, oh my.  
  
And yet, evil forces raining hellfire on her town was only half her problem.  
  
The other half was Waverly Gibson.  
  
Nicole considered herself an expert in self-reflection. She could examine her emotions rationally, realize where they were coming from, compartmentalize them, and make rational decisions in spite of them. It was part of what made her a good cop. But there was no way to compartmentalize the way she felt about Waverly. It was like trying to “compartmentalize” the ocean into a series of buckets.  
  
From the moment she had arrived in Purgatory, freshly separated from Shae and feeling lonely and unmoored, one girl had caught her eye. That wasn’t surprising. After all, Waverly was beautiful and sweet and had a smile like summer sunshine. What _was_ surprising was how quickly ‘caught her eye’ turned into ‘ _owned her entire goddamn heart_.’  
  
If anyone, God forbid, had noticed her pointless, undying love of Waverly Gibson and actually asked her why she was obsessed with this woman she barely knew, the cliche but unavoidable answer was, “Everything.” After all, Waverly was an angel descended from heaven to bring joy and light and intelligence and beauty to the undeserving town of Purgatory. Obviously. Any Purgatorian would agree with that. But somehow that didn’t seem like enough to justify the pathetic, all-encompassing crush Nicole clearly had for her. After all, she had met (and even dated) plenty of great women, Shae included, but whereas her current feelings about her legal spouse were somewhere between “tepid” and “mixed,” her feelings for Waverly bordered on cataclysmic. And in Purgatory, “cataclysmic” _really_ meant something.  
  
And it was stupid. It was crazy. It was reckless. Nicole and Waverly barely even _knew_ each other. They were, at best, friendly acquaintances. Never more than that. Plus, Waverly dated men. Waverly had _only_ ever dated men. And more to the point, Waverly was _engaged_ , for God’s sake, to a perfectly nice, perfectly handsome, perfectly male _millionaire_. A fact of which Nicole reminded herself on at least a daily basis, to no effect.  
  
Because in spite of everything— the fact that she had never believed in soulmates, the fact that Waverly had never shown any romantic interest in her, the fact that she was still _legally married_ — Nicole’s heart remained blindly convinced that they were meant to be together. To the point where sometimes her heart whispered lies to her brain and she would, just for moments, _forget_ that they weren’t together. And if that wasn’t the craziest and scariest thing to ever happen in Purgatory, Nicole would eat her Stetson.  
  
But there was trouble in paradise, she heard, regarding Waverly and Perry. Not that she ever listened for such things. After all, whenever the townspeople talked about the couple, they always said how lucky Waverly was to have caught a guy like Perry, which was just _lunacy_ when it was so _obviously_ the other way around. So clearly the town’s opinions couldn’t be trusted. But she had also _seen_ such things herself. While Perry was devoted to Waverly (as anyone would be), Waverly was maybe, kind of, arguably, just a little bit more lukewarm in return. Kisses aimed at her lips often ended up on her cheek, and declarations of love were met with smiles instead of answering words. Not that Nicole ever watched for such things.  
  
But, whether or not there was trouble in Eden, and regardless of Nicole’s heart’s shrieking opinion on the matter, the day of the wedding approached undeterred. Which was fine. It was _fine_. It was _okay_ that Waverly would be moving away. It was _good_ , that she would be safe and happy. And Nicole’s sudden, inexplicable, incapacitating illness that had struck in the days before the wedding, as decorations went up around town and residents gossiped about the upcoming nuptials, was definitely, totally, unquestionably _unrelated_.  
  
For the first time in her career at Purgatory P.D., she called in sick, leaving Lonnie in charge of her citizens (God help them all), and curled in bed, nauseous and cold and aching in what was _definitely not_ heartbreak.  
  
Because why would it be? If Waverly owned her heart, it wasn’t because of anything that had ever happened between the two of them. Nicole had never offered it to her and Waverly had never accepted it. They were on friendly terms, chatting over lunch deliveries and after-work trips to Shorty’s, but that was no excuse. That didn’t explain how she could taste Waverly in her dreams— sweet like sugar, but sharp and rich like whiskey. And it didn’t explain why sometimes after a long day, she looked forward to going home, climbing into bed, and pulling Waverly close— only to remember that Waverly had never been, and _would never be_ in her bed.  
  
It was a strange thing to forget.  
  
It was a painful thing to remember.  
  
And now, on the morning of the wedding day, the new and definitive Worst Day Of Her Life(TM), Nicole lay on her deathbed. The nausea was all-encompassing, she was shivering from head to foot, her skin was so hypersensitive that even her blankets hurt, and every muscle in her body just _radiated_ pain and suffering. And every time her eyes caught sight of the dress in her closet— the dress she would wear to _Waverly’s wedding_ , the dress that was _not white_ — the whole room seemed to spin until she thought about crawling under her bed just to see if it would hold still down there.  
  
It was pathetic.  
  
She had no idea what time it was when she heard her phone ring, the sound so distant and foreign that it might have been echoing from another dimension. In her disorientation, she momentarily wondered if she could be so sick that the ambulance was actually calling _her_. After some fumbling, she picked up the phone with shaking hands and looked at the number on the screen. She had never seen it before, she was sure, and yet her instincts screamed at her to answer it.  
  
“This is Nicole Haught,” she spoke, in a voice that thankfully sounded stronger than it felt.  
  
“Hey.”  
  
One word.  
  
_One word_ , and every one of her symptoms magically evaporated, like a curse being lifted. She sat up straight, her mind scrambling for an explanation. She checked the time. The wedding wasn’t for hours, but surely they would be preparing for it. Surely Waverly would be talking with caterers and florists and in-laws. Surely she would be fixing her hair and packing for her honeymoon and proofreading her vows. Surely she wouldn’t have time to call acquaintances and say ‘Hey.’  
  
“Waverly,” she breathed into the phone, in a far softer, far more revealing voice than she had intended. One hand rubbed her bleary eyes, then hastily tried to brush her hair into some semblance of order, as though Waverly could see her and judge her appearance through the phone. “Is everything alright?”  
  
“Yeah. I mean, no. I mean… God, this is hard.” Waverly sounded flustered and embarrassed, and Nicole instinctively stood, abandoning her deathbed without a second thought.  
  
“Are you okay?” she asked, her brow furrowing, her mind whirling, trying to imagine what could have possibly prompted this improbable call. “Not that it’s not nice to hear from you, but I would have thought you’d be kind of b-”  
  
“The wedding’s off,” Waverly burst out in a rush, the words pouring through the speaker like water from a firehose. Water spraying all over an endless, hopeless desert that hadn’t even dared to _dream_ of rain.  
  
At those impossible words, that rain in the desert, Nicole’s heart _bloomed_. Her whole body awakened with emotion. There was relief. Huge, sweeping, knee-weakening gusts of relief. And beyond that there was joy. Pure, simple, all-encompassing, guilt-wracking _joy_. But underneath it all, there also lay a thin, hazy layer of concern, and she grabbed onto that with both hands.  
  
“Are you okay?” she repeated. She automatically reached out and pulled one of her uniforms out of the closet, for reasons she hadn’t yet begun to fathom.  
  
“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just… ugh, I can’t believe I’m doing this! What am I thinking? This is crazy, right?” Waverly sounded lost and distressed, and Nicole’s layer of concern settled where it belonged, on _top_ of the rioting joy, tamping it into submission.  
  
“Where are you?” Nicole shrugged the navy shirt on over her tank top, one sleeve at a time.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Where are you?” She began doing up the buttons.  
  
“The park, but you don’t have to come out here. I’m not _injured_. I’m just…”  
  
“I’m on my way.” She hung up, finished dressing in a matter of seconds, and jogged all the way to her car. In spite of the fact that she had spent the past few days lying semi-catatonic on her bed, barely eating or sleeping, she felt like she could have run a dozen marathons, then swam straight across an ocean, then taken on all 77 revenants single-handedly… and still made it to Waverly’s side in time to comfort her.  
  
As it was, it was only like a three-minute drive.  
  
Nicole hopped out of the car and walked directly through two gardens and a soccer field, never once questioning that she was heading in the right direction. Her heart, after all, was a compass pointing unerringly towards one single thing, whether she wanted it to or not.  
  
And then there she was.  
  
Waverly Gibson, in a regular yellow ( _not white_ ) sundress, was sitting on a bench, hands fidgeting restlessly. Her eyes were red and her face was splotchy and she was alone, and Nicole had never seen anything so beautiful in her entire life. She glanced up as Nicole approached, and Nicole thought she saw some of the tension around her eyes relax.  
  
“Hey,” Nicole greeted, continuing to scan her face for more clues. The classic Waverly smile was missing, and her eyes were shiny with tears. She looked lost.  
  
“Hey Sheriff.” Waverly’s voice was noticeably higher and shakier than usual. She wiped at her eyes self-consciously and sniffled. “You really didn’t have to come all the way out here.”  
  
Nicole shrugged, gripping her belt with both hands and approaching with a slow, even step.  
  
“Standard operating procedure,” she claimed, absurdly, and Waverly managed a watery giggle. Nicole’s heart swelled at the sound. She eased down next to her on the bench, close but not quite touching. “Are you okay?”  
  
Third time was the charm, and Waverly’s face crumpled. She hid her face briefly in her hands, but emerged seconds later, shaking her head at herself. Nicole had to put every drop of her self-control into not reaching out, and her heart pounded in sympathetic distress.  
  
“I don’t know.” Waverly’s voice was thick with tears. “I mean, I really thought I was ready. Ready to marry him. Ready to leave. Ready to… start my life, finally, for real. But then I woke up this morning, and…” She shook her head again, tears shining in her eyes, hands twisting in the skirt of her dress. “Everything just felt… _wrong_.”  
  
Nicole’s heart beat harder, like it was yelling at her in Morse code. She wanted to tell it not to bother. She knew exactly what it meant. And it didn’t matter. Her feelings didn’t matter. Certainly not today.  
  
She kept her eyes focused on Waverly’s.  
  
“Did you talk to Perry about it?” she asked gently. His name felt weird in her mouth. She usually avoided saying it.  
  
“Yeah. Well, sort of. He was really sweet about it. He always is. God, I can’t believe I made him cancel the wedding! I mean, everyone gets cold feet on their wedding day, and then they’re fine, whatever. But I made him call it off—” Nicole could hear her spiraling and, breaking the second-most-important of her carefully constructed How to Act Around Waverly rules, she rested a hand on her shoulder, while the other fished a packet of tissues from her pocket. Waverly’s voice trailed off as she gratefully accepted the package and blew her nose, and Nicole took advantage of the pause.  
  
“Hey, listen to me: You didn’t _make_ him do anything. The whole point of a wedding is that you're both agreeing to take this _huge_ , life-changing step together, and _either one_ of you has the right to cancel or postpone it if it doesn’t feel right.” Waverly peeked up at her, wavering hope in her sweet brown eyes, and so she plowed ahead. “If anything, it would have been _way_ worse, for you _and_ for him, to marry him if you weren’t sure you wanted to. Trust me, marriage isn’t something you should rush into.” Memories of neon lights and outdated pop music flashed in her head. Rocky mountains and tequila shots and fun and excitement… followed by yawning months of awkward small talk and cooling passions.  
  
“I know. You’re right. And I thought I _was_ , but… there’s this feeling… like it wasn’t supposed to happen this way. Like there was some giant mistake, and… something’s missing.” Waverly shook her head, looking frustrated with herself. “And that’s crazy, because Perry is _so_ great. He loves me, and supports me, and he wants to show me the world, and I’ve never even left this stupid, awful town…”  
  
Tears began leaking from her eyes again, and Nicole squeezed her shoulder, ignoring the way her heart cringed at her words.  
  
“And all of that is great, but _none_ of it means that you are _obligated_ to marry him. _Nothing_ means that. It will _always_ be your decision. And you’re not crazy for wanting to wait, to make sure it’s what you really want, or to… weigh your other options.” Nicole tried to stop her blush through sheer force of will, but she wasn’t totally sure it worked. If Waverly noticed her reddening ears and guilty eyes, she at least granted her the mercy of not saying anything. “It’s smart, in fact. Really smart. Which makes sense, because you are literally the smartest person I’ve ever met.”  
  
Waverly finally cracked a smile at that, the tears slowing as she wiped at her eyes. She gave Nicole a look of gratitude and affection that made warmth pool in her empty stomach, and Nicole tried to pretend that she wasn’t about to burst with love for this woman.  
  
Then, incredibly, amazingly, unbelievably, Waverly leaned her body ever-so-slightly into Nicole’s side, setting off proximity alarms in every one of her nerve endings. Nicole’s brain actually whited out for a split-second before descending back to Earth. When her senses returned, she found her arm around Waverly’s shoulders.  
  
“Thanks.” Waverly gave a weak laugh and rested her head against Nicole’s shoulder, and Nicole briefly wondered if she really _had_ died from broken-heartedness and ended up in heaven. “I don’t even know why I called you first. I just found your card and…” Nicole’s mind momentarily reeled at that revelation. Waverly still had her card? She had given it to her when they first met, all those months ago, in her one and only (obviously unsuccessful) attempt to ask her out. She had assumed Waverly had immediately thrown it straight in the trash. “…I mean, I’m going to have to call everyone now, I guess.” Waverly wiped her eyes again, sniffling. “Perry said he could do it. Of course. But it should be me. God, this is all my fault.”  
  
Nicole gently squeezed her shoulders in the closest thing to a hug they had ever shared, and Waverly leaned into it, pressing closer to her. The feeling it evoked was _transcendent_. Like she was finally fulfilling her true purpose. Like her whole body had been built for this, cell by cell. Nicole doubted her heart would ever recover.  
  
“It’s not your fault, Waverly. It isn't anyone’s _fault_. Neither of you did anything wrong. It's not like you were trying to trick him. Just the opposite, in fact. You were honest with him. That was the brave thing to do. The mature thing.” Nicole tried to give the words as much weight as possible, hoping they would sink in. “You know, the _right_ thing.”  
  
Waverly sighed against her shoulder, but it sounded just a little less sad than before.  
  
“Maybe.” She shifted her head a little against Nicole, settling it more securely. “But it still sucks balls.”  
  
Nicole nearly choked on an unexpected laugh, and after a second, Waverly joined in, both of them letting the laughter break the tension of the moment. It faded after only a few seconds, and they were both quiet afterwards.  
  
“I _really_ like him,” Waverly breathed. Her voice was soft, but Nicole was 1000% sure she had just used the word ‘like’ instead of ‘love,’ and _god_ she was going to need more rules.  
  
“Just… listen to your heart. When you’re really ready, you’ll know. It won’t be scary anymore, because you won’t be able to imagine your life with anyone else. The wedding will just be… inevitable. Fate, taking its course. The world setting itself right. Your present catching up to your future. Like you finally get to go home.”  
  
After all, if _she_ were ever lucky enough to marry Waverly, you can bet she wouldn’t be hemming and hawing about it, wondering if it was a mistake. No, they’d have to stop her from _running_ down that damn aisle.  
  
Waverly looked up at her, a little too thoughtfully for Nicole’s comfort, like her features were written in an ancient language that could be deciphered if she just tried hard enough. Nicole hoped Waverly couldn’t see her thoughts there, the images of them in white with linked hands and locked lips.  
  
“You really think so?” Waverly whispered.  
  
“Yeah. I do.”

... _I do_...  
  
Their eyes locked, and Nicole felt like her whole body was on fire. She wondered if it felt the same for Waverly. She doubted it, but something about the intensity of the moment blew life back into the spark of hope in her chest.  
  
“What if… I don’t _know_ what my heart is saying?” Waverly asked, sounding serious.  
  
_Don’t say it, Nicole, I swear to God—_ “Oh, just listen. You’ll hear it. I mean, your heart has got to be pretty loud, after all, because from what I can tell, it’s _really_ big.”  
  
Waverly laughed again and gently shoved her elbow into Nicole’s side, but her smile was finally reaching her eyes.  
  
“That is _really_ cheesy,” she chided.  
  
“I’ve been told I’m like a walking bumper sticker,” Nicole admitted, although she couldn’t for the life of her remember who had said it, and the thought gave her a strange pang. Regardless, Waverly grinned wider, making her whole face light up.  
  
“Whoever told you that was a jerk,” she said. “But, you know, there are probably worse things you could be.”  
  
Nicole abruptly noticed that her hand had drifted from Waverly’s shoulder to her upper arm and that her thumb was now stroking the spot absentmindedly. She wondered when that had happened. She considered withdrawing her arm and punching herself in the face, since that was likely the only thing that would wake her from this dream… but realistically, she had _no_ intention of removing her arm unless she thought Waverly wanted her to.  
  
On the contrary, Waverly kept leaning further and further into her side, her head finding purchase higher and higher on her shoulder, until her hair was barely brushing against Nicole’s neck, tickling her. The feeling of Waverly next to her, the warmth, the rise and fall of her breathing, was life-changing. It was like something inside her had finally snapped into place. Like for the first time in her life, the world was spinning in the right direction. Following Rule Number Two was going to be so much harder after today.  
  
“I should call everyone,” Waverly murmured after several long, glorious minutes. Nicole’s brain processed those words, circling around them from every angle before reluctantly admitting that they sounded just enough like a dismissal to break the spell. Biting back a sigh of regret, she made to stand, but before she could move more than an inch or two, Waverly’s hand caught a handful of her shirt, halting her. She froze for the length of a few heartbeats, neither of them saying anything. Then, slowly, Nicole eased herself back into her original position, and they both pretended she had never tried to get up. Nicole returned to stroking her arm, and Waverly kept hold of her shirt, and Nicole was pretty sure her heart was going to spill right out of her chest and fall into Waverly’s lap. It would be a fitting way to die. Poetic, even.  
  
“I can call around, if you want. Let everyone know,” Nicole offered. It would be a little weird, sure, but getting to say the words ‘Waverly and Perry aren’t getting married’ some two hundred times would probably put a spring in her step for days, if not weeks.  
  
“Why you?” Waverly asked, an obvious and utterly reasonable question.  
  
“Because…” Nicole tried to think of any real answer besides that she would viscerally enjoy it. “I’m the sheriff?” she finished lamely, more a question than an answer. “It’s… community outreach.”  
  
Waverly managed another breath of a laugh, then sighed.  
  
“No, I’ve got to do it.”  
  
Nicole would have sworn that Waverly pressed her head into her shoulder as she said it, like she was trying to brace herself or draw strength from her. Nicole imagined bravery and strength and love flowing from herself into Waverly through each point of contact, fortifying her for the task ahead.  
  
“Want me to stay with you? For moral support?” Nicole offered, not mentioning the side benefit of threatening to arrest anyone who dared make Waverly feel bad about her decision.  
  
Waverly shook her head.  
  
“Thanks, but I think this is something I have to do myself.”  
  
Nicole nodded and was silent for a few beats, but _still_ , neither of them moved. Nicole continued her silent transfer of power, and Waverly continued leaning into her like she could feel it, too.

Nicole wished she could freeze time and live in this one moment for the rest of her life. After all, this was as close as she could ever hope to get to the woman she loved. They could never really be together. Her brain knew that, even if her heart refused to believe it. But at least now, they had shared this one small intimacy. One moment of comfort, one moment of respite, for both of them.

But it couldn't last forever. She waited as long as she could, until the ache in her heart, the desire to pull Waverly into her lap and kiss her was too much. And then she finally broke the silence.  
  
“Call Bunny Loblaw first,” she recommended from out of nowhere. She could feel Waverly’s forehead crinkle in confusion.  
  
“Why? She’s the worst.”  
  
“Because she’ll immediately call everyone she knows to blab about it, so like ninety percent of the town will have already heard by the time you get ahold of them. It’ll be old news by tomorrow.”  
  
Waverly finally pulled away in one slow, graceful motion, and the loss didn’t hurt as much as Nicole had expected. It helped that Waverly was beaming at her like the sun itself.  
  
“You’re a genius, Ni- Sheriff Haught,” she said, eyes twinkling. She seemed to catch herself on Nicole’s first name, and Nicole’s heart ached for her to finish it, to hear the sound of it on her lips. Not just _Officer Haught_ or _Sheriff_ , but _Nicole_ , just once. Instead, she could only smile dumbly back. There was a beat of silence. Waverly gave her a long, thoughtful look, the smile never leaving her face. “I, uh… I’m really glad I called you. Thanks for coming out here. It was really sweet.” Nicole opened her mouth to say something, but Waverly cut her off. “And don’t say it’s ‘standard operating procedure,’ because it’s not.”  
  
Nicole shut her mouth and considered her next words carefully.  
  
“I’m just glad I could help,” she said finally (and not dishonestly). “You know, you can always call me if you need someone. For anything. Even just an outside opinion.” She would have tipped her hat, but it was still hanging on a hook by her front door. Instead, she rose to her feet, eyes smiling. “As long as you don’t mind talking with a bumper sticker.”  
  
Waverly blinked up at her, her eyes dry now, a familiar smile on her face.  
  
“I think… maybe bumper stickers get a bad rap,” she said, a twinkle in her eye.  
  
Nicole couldn’t keep her grin from widening, but she hoped it at least looked less dopey and lovestruck than it felt.  
  
“Good luck on your phone calls, Waverly.” She nodded, a tip of her invisible hat. “And feel free to dial mine if you need a break. I’ll be around.”  
  
“Maybe I will.” Waverly smiled after her, following her with her eyes as she stepped backwards, retreating towards her car until the ground was so uneven that she was forced to turn and look where she was going. Even then, she would have sworn that she could feel Waverly’s gaze burning itself into her back. When she got home that night, when she took her shirt off, she would glance in the mirror just once to make sure there wasn’t a pair of shining brown eyes permanently tattooed there now.  
  
She drove to the police station in a daze and whistled as she walked through the doors, an irrepressible swing in her step. Lonnie visibly startled when he saw her, spilling coffee onto a mess of papers strewn across his desk. He swore and glanced up, clearly expecting a rebuke, but Nicole couldn’t have stopped smiling if her own life had depended on it.  
  
“Hey, Sheriff. I, uh… thought you were really sick,” he said awkwardly. She had called him this morning to tell him she was still staying home, but she had probably been barely intelligible at the time. In fact, now that she thought about it, she was pretty sure she told him she was dead. If so, he was taking it pretty well.  
  
“Nah, I’m fine now. _Starving_ , though. I’m going to order a pizza. Maybe several pizzas. And you can go home early if you want. I’ve got this covered.” She scooped the ruined papers off his desk and dropped them onto her own.  
  
“Um… okay?” Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, he began packing up his belongings, still shooting her confused glances every few seconds. Nicole ignored him, fishing her phone from its pocket, making sure the ringer was on, and giving it a highly visible place of honor on her desk. Just in case. “Um… are you sure you’re okay?”  
  
“Never better. It’s a day of celebration, after all.” She got out her favorite pen and began copying the coffee-stained forms onto clean ones without a hint of complaint.  
  
“Right… the wedding. Um… weren’t you gonna go to that?” He was still looking at her like she might be some kind of evil doppelgänger. Which, to his credit, would not be a completely unrealistic possibility in Purgatory. She would have to remember that for his next performance review.  
  
“Oh, yeah, but I have a funny feeling it might get rained out.”  
  
Lonnie furrowed his brow.  
  
“Um… we’re in the middle of a drought…?” he pointed out, still eying her warily. “And it’s supposed to be sunny all day…?”  
  
She looked up from the papers and beamed at him, which seemed to unnerve him even worse.  
  
“You’re right, Lonnie. It really is a beautiful day. You should go enjoy it.”  
  
He nodded slowly, picking up his backpack.  
  
“Sure. Cool. Whatever you say, sheriff.” Never taking his eyes off Nicole, he backed cautiously out of the room, just as she began humming to herself.  
  
She went back to her work, constantly keeping one eye on her phone, just in case of a call. Just in case she was needed. Just in case she was wanted.  
  
She had never felt more alive.  
  
Today was the best day of Nicole Haught’s life.


	2. Waverly

This was supposed to have been the best day of Waverly’s life.  
  
The fact that it wasn’t even a candidate for the worst said a lot about the quality of her life up to this point. Canceling a wedding was awful and painful and upsetting, but was it ever going to hold a candle to her mother leaving her? Her father and sister dying? Her uncle, the closest thing she had ever had to a loving father, dying? Her employer, another loving father figure, dying? Her aunt, whom she had loved so much she had taken her last name, leaving?  
  
Purgatory was full of bad days, deaths and funerals, and always, always, _always_ people leaving her.

And today, _today_ , was supposed to fix all that. She was supposed to be marrying Perry. Then _they_ would both leave _together_ and get away from all these awful memories, and no one would ever be allowed to leave her again.  
  
But something was wrong.  
  
Entirely wrong. _Fundamentally_ wrong.

It was like she had woken up with a hole in her chest, like something had been blown out of her in a shotgun blast, and she _could not_ move forward without it.  
  
Something was wrong.  
  
Something was _missing_.  
  
It wasn’t supposed to be this way.

She tried to talk to Perry about it, but she wasn’t sure that he understood what she meant. He had made a lot of sweet comments about how he understood that so many people would be missing from her side of the aisle because they were gone now, dead or moved away, and of course that would be painful for her to have to see. She hadn’t been sure that that was the problem, but she had let him believe that it was, and it had a ring of truth to it, even to her.  
  
But somehow she knew, she _knew_ , that the hole she had found in her heart wasn’t from her mom, her dad, Willa, Curtis, Gus, Shorty, or even Nedley. This was something else. Something more recent. Something more vital. Thinking about her wedding, she had felt the hole sucking at its own edges, trying to swallow even more of herself into it.  
  
It terrified her.

Perry, who had taken on by far the lion’s share of the wedding planning, now took on the bulk of its cancellation, and Waverly didn’t know what to do with herself. She found herself tearing apart her bedroom, searching, searching for— _what? What was she even looking for?_ — when she felt her fingers touch a scrap of paper. A relic, tucked into a drawer and mostly forgotten. A rectangle of off-white cardstock, with a Purgatory P.D. logo and an out-of-date job title and a name that (for some reason) instantly stilled her.

Waverly would never forget the day she had acquired the card. Nedley’s new deputy, fresh out of the academy and full of smiles and swagger, strode right into her life and made herself at home there. Waverly didn’t think the town had ever seen anything quite like Nicole Haught— kind and noble and strong and compassionate all at once. Like a glowing beacon of good and righteousness. Waverly still remembered the first time she saw her, standing in the doorway to Shorty’s in full uniform, smiling at her, teasing her, asking her out for coffee. Flirty. Respectful. _Gorgeous_.

Not that she noticed that sort of thing about women. She didn’t. But come on, she wasn’t _blind_.

And when Waverly, flustered and awkward, turned her away, she left behind her card: _Officer Nicole Haught_ , with a phone number inked on the back in neat lettering. And Waverly had always kept it. She told herself it was because _gosh_ , wouldn’t it be handy to have a police officer’s direct line if ever there was an emergency? Purgatory sure had a lot of emergencies. The counter-idea, that it was a memento of their strange, intriguing encounter, was quietly swept under the rug.

And then, here it was again. The card had found its way back into her hand, and for some reason the sight of it calmed her frantic chaos. The worn paper, soft and slightly faded from overhandling, and the words _Nicole Haught_ , felt like being wrapped in a blanket after a trying day.

Which wasn’t the _craziest_ thing in the world. After all, the sheriff had a uniquely comforting presence. Soft, shining brown eyes and a kind, gentle voice. Constant encouraging words. A quiet, resolute strength. Exactly the kind of person you wanted to be in change of protecting a town as dangerous as Purgatory. Steel wrapped in silk wrapped in velvet wrapped in a bulletproof vest wrapped in a police uniform.  
  
_Nicole Haught._  
  
Being inside felt suddenly too close, and the thought of Perry walking in on her with Sheriff Haught’s card in her hand made her feel strangely guilty. Silently, she slipped outside.  
  
It would have been a perfect day for a wedding. It was warm and breezy, without a single cloud in the sky. They would have had their reception in the park, with everyone they knew there to see them off. The whole town would have been there to celebrate.

Waverly thought of herself as a people person. She liked people. She liked talking to them and listening to them. She liked helping them and making them happy. She liked being popular with her neighbors, knowing that people would greet her in the street and talk to her about their day and ask about her wedding plans. But today, she couldn’t bear the thought of it. She didn’t want to have to explain to anyone why she wasn’t getting into her white dress. After all, they would ask what had happened, and what could she tell them? That she had discovered the ragged edges of a hole in her soul and she wouldn’t, _couldn’t_ get married until she knew how deep it went and what had been there? It was such a strange, weak, abstract excuse. What would they think of her? What would they say?

She ended up in the park where her reception _wouldn’t_ happen, sitting on a bench, finally letting the tears trickle down her cheeks, aching and lonely for something she couldn’t even name.  
  
It still wasn’t the worst day in her life, but it was slowly but surely inching its way up the list.

And then her hand went to her pocket, instinctively, just to touch the piece of paper, to run her fingers down the words. _Nicole Haught._  
  
They hadn’t seen each other in almost a week. Waverly had taken a few days off from Shorty’s in order to finish the wedding preparations, and she was surprised how much she missed her daily walk to the police station. She often looked forward to the visit, to Sheriff Haught’s beaming smile and friendly words. On bad days, she would perch on the sheriff’s desk and talk with her about everything and nothing, letting her reassuring presence settle her thoughts and emotions until she was ready to go back into the real world. She always felt so safe there, sitting in the path of the sheriff’s absolute focus and easy, undemanding smiles.

Maybe it was strange, since it had only been a few days and they weren’t even _really_ friends, technically, but… Waverly kind of missed her.  
  
She pulled the card out of her pocket, eyes tracing over the oddly familiar digits.  
  
She was going to have to call everyone anyway.  
  
She would have to tell everyone in town that the wedding was off. And some of them would ask why, and some of them would judge her, and some of them would ask about Perry, and some of them might even be angry with her, or disappointed in her.  
  
But the sheriff wouldn’t. Waverly knew that as surely as she knew the sun would rise.  
  
And so out came the phone. And in went the number.  
  
“This is Nicole Haught,” came the voice from the phone seconds later. It sounded tired and strained, but hearing it was such a relief that Waverly literally closed her eyes for a few seconds.  
  
“Hey,” she began, unsure of what to say. She had never called the sheriff before. They didn’t have that kind of relationship. She wondered if she would even recognize her voice over the phone, or if she should—

“Waverly,” the voice breathed back, the tension gone from it. It was so soft and affectionate that it felt like a hug from a close friend. “Is everything alright?”  
  
“Yeah,” she started, instinctively, then shook her head, agitated with herself. “I mean, no. I mean… God, this is hard.” She rubbed her forehead with her palm, feeling stupid and awkward.  
  
“Are you okay? Not that it’s not nice to hear from you, but I would have thought you’d be kind of —”  
  
“The wedding’s off.” The words seemed to burst straight out of her chest without her permission. The harsh sound of them, the sense of finality that came with saying them out loud, caused new tears to well up in her eyes, and she struggled to swallow them back. There was a short pause on the other end of the line as the sheriff seemed to process this surprise confession.  
  
“Are you okay?” Sheriff Haught asked, and Waverly immediately felt justified in having called her first. There had been no questions about what had happened, no skepticism or confusion in her voice. Just concern for her wellbeing.  
  
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Waverly said, only half lying. She tried to imagine that she was perched on the sheriff’s desk again, stealing chips from her plate and unloading the stresses of the day. “I’m just… ugh, I can’t believe I’m doing this! What am I thinking? This is crazy, right?” She tried to say it with half a laugh, but it came out more like a sob. She wished she could see Sheriff Haught’s face, the soft look in her eyes that never failed to steady her.  
  
“Where are you?” the sheriff asked, as though she could read her mind all the way from the police station.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Where are you?” She sounded as serious as Waverly had ever heard her. Waverly considered lying for about half a second, but the hole in her chest was throbbing again, and she was rethinking her desire to be alone right now.  
  
“The park, but you don’t have to come out here. I’m not _injured_. I’m just…”

“I’m on my way.”  
  
The line went dead. It was almost a relief, because Waverly didn’t even know how she had planned to end that sentence. _I’m just…_ what? Lonely? Scared? Confused? Heartbroken? Empty?

It felt like only a matter of seconds before movement caught her eye, and she looked up, sniffling and wishing she’d thought to bring tissues. Nicole Haught, resplendent in her full, dark uniform with her bright red hair, strode towards her. She looked a little off, almost ill, her face pale and her eyes rimmed with darkness, but she had a familiar, tender smile on her face. Waverly felt some of her tension immediately ease in the sheriff’s reassuring presence.  
  
“Hey,” Sheriff Haught greeted, her eyes slowing tracing Waverly’s face.  
  
“Hey Sheriff.” Waverly rubbed at her eyes, which she realized must be red and puffy from crying. “You really didn’t have to come all the way out here.”  
  
The sheriff shrugged, both hands going to grip her belt in a familiar, easy gesture.  
  
“Standard operating procedure,” she claimed, ridiculously. As though anyone else would have done the same. A tiny laugh bubbled up in Waverly’s throat, and the sound of it seemed to make the redhead smile. She slowly took the seat next to her on the bench, close enough that Waverly could feel a tiny wave of warmth radiating off of her. “Are you okay?”  
  
It was the same question she had asked over the phone, and she clearly hadn’t been satisfied with the non-answer she had received. Waverly tried to think of what to say, how to explain the strange emptiness she felt, the pain at having to cancel her wedding, the fear of having to face the entire town, but words failed her. Under the sheriff’s soft gaze, she felt herself implode, the void sucking her in entirely.  
  
“I don’t know,” she choked out around the lump in her throat. “I mean, I really thought I was ready. Ready to marry him. Ready to leave. Ready to… start my life, finally, for real. But then I woke up this morning, and…”  She shook her head helplessly, her hands twisting the fabric of her dress. “Everything just felt… _wrong_.”

“Did you talk to Perry about it?” the sheriff asked, and it actually took Waverly a moment to understand the sentence. The name sounded strange on her lips, and her brown eyes were so mesmerizing that it was hard to focus on anything else.  
  
She blinked, making herself refocus.  
  
“Yeah. Well, sort of. He was really sweet about it. He always is.” No matter what happened between them, Perry was always steady and reliable, sweet and understanding. Because he loved her. And he’d wanted to marry her. And she’d said yes. And then this morning… “God, I can’t believe I made him cancel the wedding! I mean, everyone gets cold feet on their wedding day, and then they’re fine, whatever. But I made him call it off—” Her horror at her own actions nearly made her shiver. What was she thinking? Why wouldn’t she marry him? This stupid feeling, this imaginary hole, it wasn’t real. Perry was real. His love was real. And she owed him this, she _wanted_ this. She wanted to get away. She wanted to protect herself. And now she had ruined it. She had ruined every—

Warmth bloomed on her shoulder, derailing her panicked thoughts. The sheriff’s hand rested there, almost protectively, and a packet of tissues was pressed into her hands. With a sweeping, almost disproportionate level of gratitude, she accepted the offer. As she wiped her eyes and blew her nose, Haught began speaking again, her voice stronger now, more emphatic.  
  
“Hey, listen to me: You didn’t _make_ him do anything. The whole point of a wedding is that you're both agreeing to take this _huge_ , life-changing step together, and _either one_ of you has the right to cancel or postpone it if it doesn’t feel right.” She spoke with such strength and authority that Waverly actually believed her, and it was like a band-aid over her guilt. “If anything, it would have been _way_ worse, for you _and_ for him, to marry him if you weren’t sure you wanted to. Trust me, marriage isn’t something you should rush into.”

The words rang true, even if Waverly still felt awful about cancelling.  
  
“I know. You’re right. And I thought I _was_ , but… there’s this feeling… like it wasn’t supposed to happen this way. Like there was some giant mistake, and… something’s missing. And that’s crazy, because Perry is _so_ great, and he loves me, and supports me, and he wants to show me the world, and I’ve never even left this stupid, awful town…”  
  
Tears welled again and spilled over, and the hand on her shoulder squeezed, drawing her attention back.

“And all of that is _great_ , but _none_ of it means that you are _obligated_ to marry him. _Nothing_ means that. It will _always_ be your decision. And you’re not crazy for wanting to wait, to make sure it’s what you want, or to… weigh your other options.” The last words in the sentence were almost sheepish, and Waverly pretended not to notice. She took another tissue and wiped at her nose again, willing it to stop running. She hadn’t expected her companion to keep talking, so she was a little surprised when she continued. “It’s smart, in fact. Really smart. Which makes sense, because you are literally the smartest person I’ve ever met.”

She said it so earnestly that Waverly had to crack a smile. Sheriff Haught was a never-ending fount of compliments, but they somehow never sounded trite or false. It was like she really believed every one of them. Like she really cared. Like she really thought Waverly deserved better.  
  
The hand on her shoulder was warm, but she craved more. It had been such a long morning. Without once questioning that it would be welcomed, she leaned a little sideways into the sheriff’s side warm, stable side. Instantly, the uniform-clad arm shifted to wrap around her shoulders, and Waverly felt herself finally, fully relax for the first time in days.  
  
“Thanks,” she murmured with a small laugh, although she wasn’t sure if she was thanking her for the compliment or the embrace. It was a nice embrace. She tried to remember if they had ever touched like that before— a hug, a clasped hand, even a slight adjustment to hair or clothing. She couldn’t remember. She was pretty sure she would have remembered if they had.  
  
_God_ , she was warm.

Waverly rested her head on her shoulder and soaked in the feeling.  
  
Waverly was, by definition, usually cold. She slept under piles of blankets at night (much to Perry’s chagrin) and liked curling up near fires or in patches of sunlight, like a cat. She had always been that way. But this, _this_ was better. This was even more comfortable, more comfort _ing_. Warm and safe and sweet-smelling. This was… _perfect_.

The word struck her out of the blue. _Perfect_. It seemed strange. _Perfect?_ Surely that was an overstatement. Sure, it was nice, but… _perfect?_ She decided not to overthink it. Not now, at least. But still…  
  
_Perfect?_

“I don’t even know why I called you first,” she admitted. “I just found your card and… I don’t know, I guess I just knew you wouldn’t give me a hard time about it all. And… I mean, I’m going to have to call everyone now, I guess.” She wiped her face again, sniffling as tears threatened at the thought of calling everyone in town, and having to explain… “Perry said he could do it. Of course.” She gave a tiny eye roll. “But it should be me. God, this is all my fault.”  
  
Her heart ached, but Haught tightened her grip into a sort of sideways hug, and the pain seemed to ease. Chasing that sense of comfort, Waverly pressed closer, burying her face in the collar of the uniform shirt. _Vanilla._ The scent was calming, soothing, sweet.  
  
_Perfect._

“It’s not your fault, Waverly. It isn’t anyone’s _fault_. Neither of you did anything wrong. You weren’t trying to trick him. Just the opposite, in fact. You were honest with him. That was the brave thing to do. The mature thing.” The sheriff seemed to pause for effect. “You know, the _right_ thing.”

And if ever there were an expert in the world on _doing the right thing_ , surely it was Nicole Haught. Waverly felt herself sigh, breathing in still more of the warmth and sweetness.

“Maybe,” she admitted, shifting her head still higher, along a stripe of fabric on the uniform. The fabric wasn’t what she would call soft, but the warmth underneath more than made up for it. She briefly imagined hugging the sheriff in a cozier, more casual setting. Maybe curled on a couch, under a blanket, wearing a soft sweater, or pajamas. _Perfect._ She had to tamp down an unexpected thrill that rose up in her chest. Why was she even imagining that, at a time like this? With the sheriff, of all people? “But it still sucks balls.”

Haught laughed unexpectedly, and the sound was contagious. She halfheartedly joined in, shoulders shaking with repressed giggles. The movement must have displaced the sheriff’s hand, because it slipped down and curled around her bicep instead, the thumb stroking gently.  
  
_Perfect._

“I _really_ like him,” Waverly breathed, recognizing even as she said it that she hadn’t said ‘love,’ and _god_ , how telling was that? What did that say about her?

“Just… listen to your heart. When you’re really ready, you’ll know,” the sheriff told her. From anyone else, it would have sounded trite, like a cop-out, but Haught continued earnestly. “It won’t be scary anymore, because you won’t be able to imagine your life with anyone else. The wedding will just be… inevitable. Fate, taking its course. The world setting itself right. Your present catching up to your future. Like you finally get to go home.”  
  
The edges of the void ached and sucked at her, and she shifted her head just enough to get a better view of Haught’s face. Her eyes were still so soft, so sure, so fond, so familiar, so… _Nicole_.

“You really think so?” Waverly whispered.  
  
“Yeah. I do.”  
  
_…I do…_

The edges of the void caught fire, burning and smoldering, and the heat from Nicole’s body, the searing of her gaze felt like almost too much.  
  
“What if… I don’t _know_ what my heart is saying?” Waverly asked, not sure where the words were coming from, just knowing that she wanted an answer. Nicole gave her a soft, almost teasing grin.

“Oh, just listen. You’ll hear it. I mean, your heart has got to be pretty loud, after all, because from what I can tell, it’s _really_ big.”

That made Waverly laugh and almost blush, and she elbowed the other woman in the ribs, shaking her head.  
  
“That is _really_ cheesy,” she chided. Nicole shrugged.

“I’ve been told I’m like a walking bumper sticker.”  
  
It was a funny turn of phrase, and Waverly’s smile widened automatically.  
  
“Whoever told you that was a jerk,” she said, wondering who it had been, or if it was someone she knew. “But, you know, there are worse things you could be.”  
  
Nicole beamed at her, and she basked in the glow of it, soaking in the warmth and strength. It was like climbing into bed after a long day. Like coming in from the cold and sinking into a hot bath. Like hiding under a blanket with a flashlight during a storm.  
  
_Perfect…_

That word caught in her head again, startling her, and she broke eye contact, settling her head more comfortably on her shoulder. The two of them seemed to fit together perfectly. _Perfect…_ It felt cozy, and safe, and did a lot to ease the feeling of emptiness in her chest. It didn’t fill it, not entirely, but it made the void feel a little less bottomless. Nicole’s arm around her, the feeling of her gently stroking her arm, the steady cadence of her breathing, were each like drops falling into an empty bucket.

She snuggled closer, tucking herself into the crook of Nicole’s neck, as though they had done this a hundred times before. A sense of calm had settled over her like a blanket, and she wondered how she would ever be able to bring herself to pull away. She knew she was hiding from the day’s responsibilities, but it felt so good to hide here. It was like the rest of the world was less real now, and it couldn’t hurt her anymore.  
  
They sat in perfect, comfortable silence for longer than Waverly would have imagined possible, until the guilt wormed its way into their protective bubble and resumed gnawing at her. With a sigh, she acknowledged it.  
  
“I should call everyone,” she said dully. Nicole didn’t respond for a few seconds, then, apparently taking it as a dismissal, she began to pull away and stand. Every fiber of Waverly’s being objected to this abrupt separation, and before she could process the situation, her hand reached out and snagged a handful of Nicole’s uniform. There was a moment of breathless hesitation, and then slowly, carefully, Nicole lowered herself back onto the bench. Her thumb resumed stroking Waverly’s arm, and Waverly finally breathed again. They stayed like that for another minute or two— or maybe it was ten or twenty; Waverly was pretty sure her sense of time was shot for the day.

Finally, after an indeterminate amount of time, Nicole spoke up again.  
  
“I can call around, if you want. Let everyone know,” she offered. Waverly tried to imagine what her wedding guests would say when _the town sheriff_ , of all people, called them about the cancellation.

“Why you?” she asked. Nicole frowned thoughtfully, like she didn’t have an immediate answer.  
  
“Because… I’m the sheriff?” she said, as though guessing. “It’s… community outreach.”  
  
It was a sweet offer, but unrealistic.  
  
“No, I’ve got to do it,” Waverly sighed.  
  
“Want me to stay with you? For moral support?” Nicole asked gently. The words were simple, but made her imagine something else. Nicole’s voice, declaring, _As long as you want me, I will be by your side._

The edges of the void sharpened again, the emptiness aching, and Waverly shook her head, trying to dispel the feeling.  
  
“Thanks, but I think this is something I have to do myself.”  
  
Nicole nodded, and they sat there for another minute, still not moving. Nicole was clearly waiting for a dismissal, but Waverly wasn’t willing to give one yet. Finally, after another long pause, Nicole drew in a deep breath and broke the silence.  
  
“Call Bunny Loblaw first,” she said. It was just about the last thing Waverly had expected, and her forehead creased in confusion.  
  
“Why? She’s the worst.” Bunny Loblaw was the matriarch of one of the main ‘first families’ of Purgatory, and was mostly known for being insufferable.  
  
“Because she’ll immediately call everyone she knows to blab about it, so like ninety percent of the town will have already heard by the time you get ahold of them. It’ll be old news by tomorrow.”  
  
The solution was so unexpected and so simple that Waverly almost laughed. Her spirits raised, she finally rallied enough strength to pull back and peer into Nicole’s sweet face.  
  
“You’re a genius, Ni-” Her voice caught on the name— on the sheriff’s _first_ name. Which she had never used in her life. _Haught. Officer Haught. Deputy Haught. Sheriff Haught._ But never _Nicole_. Never. Not once. So why now? Why was it suddenly sitting on the tip of her tongue, like she said it every day? With some effort, she swallowed it back and replaced it with the correct moniker, “Sheriff Haught.” She mentally shook herself. The sheriff was still watching her with her caring eyes, and Waverly couldn’t help but smile back. “I, uh… I’m really glad I called you. Thanks for coming out here. It was really sweet.” Haught opened her mouth to respond, and on instinct, Waverly headed her off. “And don’t say it’s ‘standard operating procedure,’ because it’s not.”

The sheriff paused, as though Waverly had guessed correctly, but continued after a second.  
  
“I’m just glad I could help,” she said finally. “You know, you can always call me if you need someone. For anything. Even just an outside opinion.” She smiled kindly, and Waverly’s chest felt warmer for it. Then, finally, she stood, taking a slow step back, still smiling. “As long as you don’t mind talking with a bumper sticker.”  
  
Waverly followed her with her eyes, full to the brim with gratitude and admiration.  
  
“I think… maybe bumper stickers get a bad rap,” she told her. Haught’s smile widened.  
  
“Good luck on your phone calls, Waverly. And feel free to dial mine if you need a break. I’ll be around.”  
  
Waverly felt comforted by the very thought of it.  
  
“Maybe I will.”  
  
The sheriff nodded to her and departed. Waverly followed her with her eyes as she retreated, stepping backwards until the last possible second, never breaking eye contact. Waverly watched her until she was out of sight, and as she disappeared, a tiny voice inside her whispered, _Wait, where’s Nicole?_

She shrugged off the feeling and pulled out her phone. She had a lot of calls to make today, and the first one was going to be a doozy.  
  
“Hello, Bunny? This is Waverly Earp. I have some unfortunate news.”  
  
But maybe she could call the sheriff later. Just to check in. Just to say ‘hey.’  
  
“Yes, like I said, it’s Waverly Earp. Um… Perry Crofte and I were supposed to be getting married today? But, um… something’s come up.”  
  
Or maybe she could bring her some lunch. Just to thank her. Just to talk. Just to take a break.  
  
“Perry and I aren’t getting married.”  
  
After all, this wasn’t the _worst_ day of her life or anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was initially going to take place chronologically after Nicole's chapter, but in the end, I decided that Waverly's perspective needed to be here as well. Hope it was worth the wait!


End file.
